I wince, and Xander steps forward, draping one arm around my back and cradling my elbow in his palm. I lean into him even though I wasn’t wincing from the pain. It was Roman’s words that got me. Going after Ethan would make me look weaker, because after today I already look weak. I may have addressed that problem with Ethan, but I can’t go around stabbing my own hand in the face of everyone who witnessed the debacle, and they probably wouldn’t even find it that impressive—it’s not the same as healing from a stomach wound. My own show will need to be above and beyond.

Roman captures my gaze. “You will recover.”

I nod. He doesn’t mean the wound.

“I’ll be fine.” I hope it’s not a lie, but it sure feels like one.

CHAPTER 26

I wake up shaking, with my hair damp and stuck to the side of my face, but it’s not from the stomach wound. My stomach feels surprisingly fine. I was dreaming about their faces while I lay there with a knife in my gut and the life pouring out of me. They reminded me of bored, hungry lions excited by a bit of carnage.

The thought makes me uncomfortable. These are the people I want to join. I’m giving up blood in more than one way just to be here. But Xander’s not like that. There was fear in his eyes. Neither is Reina, Diantha, or even Aristelle. I don’t know about the twins. Something tells me they might like the sight of blood, with little concern if it’s mine or not.

I don’t really want to open my eyes and step outside this room and see those faces that seemed to be rooting for me to die.

Something shifts at my feet, like someone’s sitting at the end of my bed.

I scramble back so quickly that I bang my head against the headboard.

Roman jumps up from the bed and takes a step back, like he’s the one who’s scared. He holds a hand up. “Ava, please.”

Only then do I realize I’ve already grabbed the stake from under my pillow. My breathing is heavy.

Roman doesn’t seem to be breathing at all. He takes another step backward. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Well, I’m not bleeding anymore, so there’s nothing here for you.”

“I wouldn’t…” He glances at my stake, but it’s not fear in his expression. It’s sadness. “You sleep with that.… You think I would…” He grimaces. Hurt darts across his face before he clears his throat. I can tell he’s trying to get his emotions in check, but they’re still all over his face—a rare occurrence. “I can see that you’re fine,” he says as he starts to head for the door.